Butthair & Seven: The Orginal Episode I

By: King Stahome

Early 1999, written in Seattle, WA, in the shadow of Mount Rainier.

I’m intending on writing a story to all my fucked up friends. Which, at the time, included Brian Mertz, Marc Sorrells, Holly Hudspath (Niemi, now), Kurt Ference, Matt Niemi, Greg Kovach, and Dan Nelson.

At that time, they were the only ones I thought had access to the World Wide Web and such. Written in email form, I had no intention of this going any further.

And here is the way it all began…

Listen, all you fuckers. I’m drunk and I’m in a far away land. I tried to see Rainier and all I saw was a black church this beautiful Sunday and instead of getting religion I’m getting drunk. And if any of you fuckers don’t want to hear what I’m about to say, I’m giving you several hours to disagree….

Insert from writer: this previous entry was at approximately noon April 11th, 1999. The rest occurs for the rest of my life after 6pm, April 11th, 1999 at 2:02 am.

Well, too late. if you wanted out, it had to be before now. Which is actually only about six hours before exactly now. Which is approximately one twenty four in the a.m.. I haven't actually thought about what it’s going to be about. But here goes:

There once was a man by the name of Butthair Growes. An unusual name. So far in life, Butthair was doing all right. His girlfriend wasn't pregnant, his dog could shit in a toilet, and he could kick ass in "Mortal Kombat."
Butthair was happy.

Seven was Butthair's friend. Seven is an odd name also, but Butthair didn't make fun. In certain places, Seven is just as much prayed to as Jesus. At least that was what Seven's daddy told him. And who could argue with a company who built a boat on stilts over dry land and had the money to divert a river under it?

Seven's daddy was a drunk. He called himself Unlucky, but the folks called him Sloppy. They had good reason to, though, because he didn't dress well at all. Sloppy had a real problem with continence, and spent his money on cheap wine.

This is a story about Sloppy, Seven, and Butthair. Take it or leave it, it is guaranteed delivery. change yo life fo ev ah.

It began, it seems, even before first grade; the torment. for a while (maybe ten years or so) I was fine. Completely normal. I had the foresight to realize the ecstasy of absolute freedom. Balance of nature, complete absence of responsibility, I was god. Twelve years of immortal bliss.

Then I met Seven. He was a good guy that was automatically segregated from the group because we new his name before we knew the digit he was named after. It was weird, ya know? imagine reciting twenty thousand times a week," one, two, three, four, five, six, Brian, eight,..." and so on. It almost drove the whole class out of their minds. Luckily for them, though, I bet Steven Wentworth he didn't have any hair on his ass.

They no longer worried about the paradox they were facing with Seven and his bastard child "7", they had me.

Butthair.

Would you like to hear more?

Tell the King Stahome.